


Ghosts

by PeachesandBones



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01ep28 The City of the Edge of Forever, Episode: s02ep04 Mirror Mirror, F/M, Germany won WWII, Google translated German, M/M, Mirror Universe, Torture, Wildly inaccurate computer science, despite the tags a very mild MU, lots of racism, mentioned rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachesandBones/pseuds/PeachesandBones
Summary: Based on the fan theory that the Mirror Universe came into being in an alternate timeline when Edith Keeler lived.In the prime universe, Jim fails to prevent Bones from saving Edith Keeler. In the mirror universe, one anthropologist can't help but notice that Doctor McCoy looks at lot like the man from an obscure newspaper article who saved Keeler's life. She believes him to be a hero of The Empire. Unfortunately, The Empire doesn't feel the same way. Now Kirk has to decide whether he wants to get rid of a possible vulnerability, or fight for the only thing he wants to protect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the tags, this will be a very mild MU in terms of torture, rape, etc. The racism is a little horrific though, especially towards poor Uhura. I've tried to keep as many of the crew members as possible, but I couldn't write in Chekov. I debated changing his ethnicity a bit, but figured that in the event of the Nazis winning WWII that his family was unlikely to make it to the 23rd century. Sorry Chekov :(
> 
> I'm not a historian, so forgive any mistakes with Nazi racial policy/chain of command/etc. I figure that by the 23rd century there would be some cultural changes as well, so this fic may come off as a very liberal interpretation of Nazism. This is not intended to be an apologist interpretation of Nazism.
> 
> Also, apologies for the Google-translated German. I won't be using a lot of German in this fic, but when I do, it will be horrifically butchered. Anyone who wants to correct the Google translate please feel free, I will change it later.
> 
> I do have the entire story written, I'm just editing as I post.

_Jim couldn’t blame ignorance. He knew that Edith Keeler was destined to die. He knew how she would die. He knew that he had to stop Bones from preventing her death. It wasn’t like the puzzle pieces hadn’t been put together._

_Yet, when the time came, it simply slipped his mind. Overwhelmed by relief at seeing Bones again he left Edith forgotten in the street, and when he finally looked back he saw over one thousand pounds of fate barrelling towards her. Bones just saw a Model-T with a driver who wasn’t paying attention. He barrelled past Jim who was too dumbstruck, too unprepared. He reached out to grab McCoy but the man had the build of a sprinter and Jim could only watch, with a ball of hope and despair filling his stomach, as the doctor pushed her out of the way of the vehicle. The driver honked impatiently as he sped by, and Bones and Edith lay on the sidewalk, breathing heavily._

_“Bones…” Jim croaked, as bright lights emerged from the shadows._

 

“Now, the Coridans, due to their small population being spread across such a large planet, have reverted to a tribal based system that wasn’t there during the previous century. However, due to massive casualties in the proxy war between the Vulcan High Command and the Andorian Empire, they’ve had to readjust their social norms. One of the most important things is your role as a guest on their planet. Hospitality is not to be taken lightly, and as a guest your duties are…” The cosmic anthropologist’s bubbly, earnest speech about the fascinating social norms of the Cordians continued, but Kirk blocked it out. It wasn’t often The Empire saw such starry-eyed innocents so eager to please, filled with nothing but a desire to practice their trade. It was grating on his last nerve.

She’d learn better soon enough.

Bones, on the other hand, looked up at the girl thoughtfully, blue eyes scanning the even skin of her young face. Kirk frowned.

“Don’t get any ideas with that one.” He warned under his breath. Bones didn’t look look away from her, but he chuckled. On his other side, Spock ignored their gossiping.

“I wouldn’t even know what to do with her, Jim. But she can’t be more than a month out of school. How did she get posted to The Enterprise?” 

“Rumour has it she’s being sleeping with Nogura.” Kirk muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “She’s got the sweet nativity that says she think he loves her, too.”

“She’s in for a rude surprise.” Bones agreed. The captain took a moment to crane his head around and glance at the rest of the officers and crew at the briefing. As usual, the senior staff looked on with polite disinterest, while the new recruits looked bored. Kirk bit back a smile. The Enterprise had a reputation for exceptional ruthlessness and savagery. Many who were posted to the ship came expecting carnage on every mission, but the reality wasn’t quite as titillating. Official policy was to attempt negotiations initially, and few issues couldn’t be resolved with a little charm and a few promises which may or may not be kept. It allowed The Empire to keep it’s friends close, it’s enemies closer, and prevented stretching it’s manpower too thin by preemptively creating conflict.

However Kirk could have lived without endless briefings by the anthropology department.

“...and their supply of dilithium crystal may be able to power the Fleet for 50 years by itself, making it a great asset to The Empire. Are there any questions?” Alison asked as she wrapped up her speech. Lazily, Bones raised his hand, and the blonde turned to him, opening her mouth to call on him, but then she froze.

There was a good ten seconds of silence as she stared, green eyes going a shade paler, and Bones retracted his hand, waiting like a good southern gentleman to be officially acknowledged. She wore an expression of disbelief mixed with wonder, and Kirk eyed his CMO to gauge his reaction. He looked bored, the only thing giving away his irritation was the soft drum of his finger tips on the arm of his chair.

Bones didn’t know either. 

“Ms. Delacroix, acknowledge your commanding officer.” Kirk spoke quietly, words laced with a sharp edge. It seemed to bring her back to the briefing room, and she offered an insincere smile.

“I apologise sir, I don’t think we’ve had a chance to meet.”

“Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer. I’ve heard there are settlements of Andorians and Vulcans on Coridan. Is this still true?”

“Vulcans never made settlements on Coridan, as the temperature is far too low for their standards. The Andorians suffered the opposite problem, but had military outposts on the planet for twenty years. They disassembled their outposts when the war ended, and so we are unlikely to encounter either race.” She supplied. Bones nodded.

“Any other questions?” A light snore in the background answered her. Jim rose from his seat, Spock, Bones and the rest of the crew following his lead, but he glanced at Alison. She alternated between shutting down the projection at the front of the room, and casting quick, furtive glances at his CMO.

It put him on edge.

 

“Well, that was bizzare.” McCoy commented as they strolled down the hallway.

“What are you referring to?” Spock asked. McCoy shrugged uncomfortably. For some reason, which he had never explained to Kirk, the Vulcan made him wary.

“That look she kept giving me.” 

“I assumed you had engaged in a previous romantic or sexual liaison with her.”

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go spreading that misinformation.” Bones almost hissed out the words.

“Of course, doctor. You personal affairs aren’t any of my concern. However, if I have come to that conclusion, it is logical to assume that your human shipmates would have seen the same implication in her reaction to you. I do not wish to be blamed for the ensuing gossip that will inevitably make its way around the ship.” Kirk could feel Bones tense with anger as they entered the turbolift, the muscles of his jaw clenched around words that he knew Kirk would have to reprimand him for. Honestly, he didn’t understand. Neither men had any ambitions of rising through the ranks - Spock didn’t want his own command, and as CMO there was no where on the ship for Bones to go. There was no reason for them to clash but yet they mixed as well as oil and vinegar.

As he and Spock disembarked to head to the bridge, Kirk turned to look at his CMO.

“Drinks in my cabin tonight.” He commanded, and Bones nodded.

“Of course, captain.”

Jim didn’t trust Delacroix after her display in the briefing. While he doubted that she could pose a serious threat, he also knew not to underestimate any woman. Keeping Bones close was the prudent option.

 

_McCoy had come with mixed recommendations._

_“He doesn’t torture.” He had been warned by the director of the last medical base McCoy had graced. “He’ll create biological weapons, but doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. But the other side of that is you never have to worry about him. He’s the kind of doctor you have on staff because you need someone you can trust not to finish you off when you are at your weakest.”_

_This was exactly what Jim needed. Killing Captain Pike had been an excellent career move, but now he saw the shadows that followed his meteoric ascension. Every crew member was suspect, every meal possibly a weapon in and of itself. Kirk was wearing a large target to anyone who wanted to impress themselves to The Empire - the assassination of the wunderkid would prove to be an excellent bullet point on anyone’s resume. He hadn’t proved himself enough in missions to warrant the protection of the higher echelons of Starfleet, and he suspected that many still held a grudge for the death of Pike._

_All he wanted was a little breathing room on board his ship._

_“Gutentag, Herr Doktor McCoy.*” He greeted in Standard. As usual, he met newcomers to the ship alone. The chances of being harmed on the new recruit’s first day were very low, and it allowed him to evaluate the crewmember without interference._

_“Gutentag, Herr Hauptmann. Ich freue mich an Bord zu sein.” Kirk raised an eyebrow._

_“Ihr Deustch ist gut. Mir wurge gesagt Sie nicht Standard sprechen.” A typical southern American, the director had noted with disgust. Despite German being the official language of government and The Empire, the south was rife with the strong protest of those who never bothered to do more than memorize tests. While most Americans were bilingual, many communities in the south were ostentatious enough to do day-to-day business in their native language. He had assumed McCoy’s written Standard was up to snuff, as reports were always in German, but often that didn’t translate to spoken or comprehensive fluency._

_“Iche habe gelogen.” McCoy smiled cheerfully. “Es ist am besten aus der politik zu bleiben. Ist dieses Schiff Amerikaner?”_

_“Ja.”_

_“I assume you don’t go on in Standard all day long then?” McCoy drawled, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “I get enough conjugation exercises filling out my reports to Berlin.” His English was tinged with a bit of that southern twang that Kirk was expecting, an accent which didn’t come out in his German at all._

_“English is the dominant language on the ship.” Kirk admitted, eyes narrowing suspiciously. The doctor was already coming too close to insubordination for his tastes. And yet, there was something appealing about someone who was so unabashedly forthcoming with him._

_“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” Kirk’s eyes hardened, a warning sign that at any moment the doctor could have already worn out his welcome. He didn’t know if McCoy was stupid or just that arrogant, but he had the nerve to bounce on the balls of his feet, smiling wide like the next big adventure was just around the next turbolift._

_“Well, I should probably see medical bay.” The southerner grinned. Kirk pursed his lips together._

_“I suppose you should, doctor.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the conversation in German is supposed to say:
> 
> *"Hello, Doctor McCoy."
> 
> "Hello, captain. I'm pleased to be aboard."
> 
> "Your German is good. I was told you didn't speak Standard."
> 
> "I lied. I find it best to stay out of politics. Is this ship American?"
> 
> "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a teeny bit of smut at the beginning of this chapter. Then, racism towards Uhura and Sulu.

The sex was slow and drawn out, Kirk’s body tense and strung as each hard push brought McCoy’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was searching for something, something he couldn’t put words to or define, and the disquiet it brought him focused him like a laser. Each gasp, moan, flutter of Bones’ eyelids were recorded in his memory like a holovid, scenes to play back later during dull moments on the bridge.

Kirk didn’t know why this man had grabbed so much of his attention, taken up so much space in his head. Physically, he wasn’t the most attractive person on board. The lines on his face spoke to his age, his slender body was slightly underweight, leaving sharp hipbones and ribs that pressed against softening flesh. Kirk certainly had his pick of people much younger, more conventionally attractive, crew members of lower ranks that left less probability of complications later down the line. Yet they had all faded into parsed memories of smooth flesh and soft giggles, while the doctor endured.

“Fuck your hand.” Kirk commanded, and with a gasp of desperation, McCoy did exactly that. His hips thrust in small, erratic movements that tightened him up, and the heat around Kirk’s cock intensified. McCoy left out a cry, eyes and mouth opened as his release gushed forth, breath blowing hotly against his cheek. Kirk’s own came seconds later.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Bones reached over to Kirk’s bedside table and pulled out the waiting pack of Virginia Slims and the ashtray that awaited him. The rich smell of tobacco wafted across the room, and Kirk breathed deeply, feeling a familiar sense of warmth well up in his chest.

“Those things will kill you, you know.” He warned half-heartedly. Bones grinned, one of those wide smiles that made his face look decades younger, and Kirk felt something twist inside of him.

“If I live long enough to see that, it’ll be a miracle in and of itself. Besides, someone has to support American industries.” Jim just closed his eyes and smiled. Although The Terran Empire was supposed to have equal member states, America had been severely punished after the second world war had ended. Essential materials were freely bought and sold, but heavy trade tariffs had been placed on luxury products originating in the United States. American cigarettes, however, had become fashionable, and it was one of the very few industries that very rarely fell into recession.

Bones was what once might have been called ‘a patriot’.

After finishing his cigarette, Bones stretched his slender limbs, skin thinning around his ribs and hips, sinew laid bare for Kirk’s eyes. He followed McCoy’s graceful movements as he maneuvered out of bed and fished around on the floor for his clothing.

“You’re sleeping here tonight.” Kirk commanded. McCoy turned to face him, eyebrow raised in what looked like amusement.

“You don’t think people will notice?”

“I think someone has already taken notice of you, and I don’t trust her.” He replied. “A security detail will be assigned to you tomorrow.” Bones shrugged and laid back down in the bed, lighting another cigarette.

“Alright then.”

 

_“This is my first officer and science officer, Lieutenant Commander Spock.” Spock turned away from his console and nodded stiffly at the new CMO._

_“Greetings.” McCoy’s entire demeanour suddenly changed, a slight curl of disgust raising at the corner of his lip. The flip between the sunny, carefree man that he had led on a tour of the ship and the hard man who stood on the bridge now was almost impressive._

_“A Vulcan.” The doctor noted stonily._

_“Yes.” A defence of Spock was on the edge of Kirk’s lips, but he still wasn’t entirely sure of his own thoughts on the Vulcan. He claimed to have no desire for command, and so far his actions had backed that assertion, but Kirk knew that the most patient snakes could go for months without eating until opportunity struck._

_“I noticed that your last biological weapon experiment on the Romulans resulted in gastric distress rather than the proposed extinction of the species. I can only hope your incompetency has lessen with your time at the Mengele Medical Base.” Kirk schooled his face, but he had never known Spock to trade petty insults with even the most scornful of officers. McCoy seemed to have a certain effect on those he met._

_The doctor, in turn, bit the inside of his cheek before smiling viciously. “I’m not sure how having a first officer from a species that failed to conquer the Coridans could possibly benefit The Empire, but perhaps the individual will rise above his society’s failings and achieve mediocrity.” This time, Kirk couldn’t keep the look of surprise off of his face._

_The man clearly had no political savvy. How had he stayed alive to reach middle age?_

_“Doctor.” He warned. “Mr. Spock is above you in rank, and you will treat him with the respect he is owed. If I hear a similar comment from you again, you will report to the agony booth.” McCoy looked at Kirk, as if he were assessing him, and then turned his attention back to the first officer._

_“Of course.”_

 

Lieutenant Commander Spock had stepped off the bridge to check on a malfunction in programming.

Captain Kirk had stepped off moments ago to discuss a possible rerouting of dilithium energy with Scott.

Sulu didn’t waste any time.

“Uhura.” He approached her console, his wild grin distorting the scars on his face. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up in quite a while.” She felt the bile rise in her throat, and tried to urge it down.

She couldn’t ignore him. Nothing earned the wrath of a senior officer like ignoring them. She should know.

“I think you’re perfectly capable of babbling while you’re at your station, Sulu.” His grin stretched even further, and Uhura thought, hoped, that perhaps it would stretch so wide he would crack into pieces.

“But I can’t see your beautiful face from there, Liuetenant.” She could smell the minty scent of his breath, feel the heat he gave off, and she suppressed a shudder.

“Don’t you have a porn holo to not-so-discreetly watch?”

“Oh, Uhura.” He tisked. “I could never do anything so unbecoming on the bridge. I’m not some filthy animal with no self control. Although, speaking of that, I’ve heard blacks are unbelievable in bed. Barely human, controlled by their base instincts…” He trailed off, examining her face, waiting for a reaction.

He wanted her to lose control, she knew. He loved putting her in the agony booth, hearing her screams and watching her body contort into painful positions.

_“I will break my little monkey.”_ He had whispered into her ear the last time he had taken her from the booth, hands digging painfully into her raw nerves.

She ground her teeth and stared at her screen, unable to read the words as nausea and hatred blurred them.

“I doubt you have _anything_ ,” she directed a pointed look at his crotch. “that could make _any_ woman forget herself.” The snickering behind them accented the wide-eyed shock on Sulu’s face. Then, he snarled and withdrew his blade.

“Your mouth is going to get you into trouble, Uhura.” His breath was heavy and ragged. “Your face will be more scarred than mine is, and without your beauty, what use will you be to The Empire?”

“Liuetenant Sulu.” The small man froze as Spock’s voice rang out coldly behind him. “Why are you away from your station?” Sulu gave a bitter smile as he sheathed his knife.

“Lieutenant Commander Spock.” He threatened to choke on his forced cheer. “We were simply having a discussion on subspace communication frequencies.”

“I highly doubt Lieutenant Uhura needs the assistance of an overglorified shuttle pilot.” The slight narrowing of his eyes and the minute tightness of the corners of his mouth gave Spock’s anger away, and Uhura allowed herself a small smile.

“Yes sir.” Sulu sauntered back to his consol, avoiding eye contact with the Vulcan. Spock’s immutable eyes met hers, and she gave a small, genuine smile.

 

McCoy didn’t particularly like having a security detail. He had a very fortunate position on The Enterprise- beneath the notice of the crew’s intrigues, and close enough to the captain that he had a layer of protection should anyone gain an interest in him. Before, it had meant a certain amount of freedom. Now, it was just stifling.

“I would have fucked her on the biobed. Her arm isn’t the only thing she’d need sewing up after I was done with her.” Henson chuckled to himself. McCoy ground his teeth as he set the bed to the autosterilize setting. Sulu had, predictably, sent the most incompetent, grating security detail he could scrounge up, most likely to amuse himself and irritate McCoy. The Japanese were honorary Aryans, and McCoy couldn’t deny their rich culture and incredible intelligence. But he found them quick to take every advantage available, their subtly and maneuvering impressive if not annoying. 

“I’m sure Engineer Tasha would be happy to hear that the next time you complain about your replicator not working.” He remarked. Henson barked out a laugh.

“I’m sure she’ll be knocked up and dropped off at the nearest birthing centre before my replicator breaks again. I heard she and Scott have quite a thing going on. And by ‘heard’, I don’t mean anyone was talking, so to speak.” He grinned. McCoy bit his lip. Motherhood was the greatest thing that a woman could do for The Empire, but Tasha would not be so lucky.

“Doctor McCoy!” Alison bounced into the sickbay, almost beaming with a sincerity that made his stomach roll. He couldn’t believe that he needed a security detail for this.

“You are not authorized to speak with the lieutenant commander.” Portroy stepped forward, his impressive bulk blocking the beam of her enthusiastic staring. McCoy couldn’t see her, but he heard her voice, panicked and crushed, as she cried “But I have something important to bring to his attention!”

“Bring it up with the captain, Delacroix.” Bones replied, and opened up his charting software on his PADD to complete his documentation.

“But-”

“Your time here is over.” Portroy took a step towards her, a silent threat. There was a moment of silence, before he heard the patter of her steps taking her away from sickbay.

Perhaps there was something nice about having a security detail.


	3. Chapter 3

There had been subtle signs, but they didn’t come together until the ship hit a rough bit of turbulence.

The midrift-baring uniform she wore hadn’t helped conceal anything, of course. The slight bit of softness that had begun to cover her abdominal muscles could be excused by a slight overindulgence at meals, the glow on her flawless skin due to a new product.

 _She probably should have stolen some anti-emetics from sickbay_ Kirk thought as Uhura spewed forth a yellow-green bile. Her retching sounds caused various looks of annoyance and wincing around the bridge, made so much worse by the fact they went on for two minutes after _The Enterprise_ had made her way through the ion storm.

“Lieutenant.” Kirk said coldly as the sounds stopped, staring hard at the woman lying on the floor. She slowly looked up at him, hesitant and raw, and they both knew what was going to happen next. “Sickbay.” To no one in particular, he called out “And for the love of the Fuhrer, someone clean up my bridge.”

Of course, Delacroix chose then to pop up in the Turbolift.

“Captain, permission to step on the bridge?” She requested.

“Denied.” He snapped. “Unless you’re here to clean up vomit.” Wearing a look reminiscent of some small, soft creature, she hopped anxiously from foot to foot, anxious energy demanding release.

“But captain, I have something of the utmost import-”

“I am busy.” He growled. “Take it up with my first officer.” Her frown deepened.

“But captain, I-”

“Spock, escort her somewhere else and determine what she wants.” Kirk snapped again. Spock nodded, and stepped away from his instruments.

“Right away, sir.” 

 

When Uhura finally made her way down to sickbay, McCoy could tell. He had delivered too many babies in rural Georgia not to know by instinct when a woman was pregnant.

He felt sick to his stomach.

Her family line had been made into honorary Aryans by some heroic act an ancestor of hers had performed for The Empire. She had still received hostility from parts of the crew, a punishment for Kirk’s decision to bring her on board. For others she had been an object of fetishization, a dark beauty to conquer. Uhura had risen to the challenge, swiftly claiming her place among the bridge crew and relegating untowards commentary to whispers people made when they thought she was out of hearing range.

However, despite her status, she was only permitted to mate within her geneological lines. other black families had received honorary status throughout the years, but the black population had dwindled and dwindled until now only a handful of blacks existed across The Empire.

Most importantly, Uhura was the only black serving with Starfleet.

She had committed a crime.

Scowling, McCoy waved his hand towards his security detail.

“Back off!” He growled. “We need some privacy in here.”

“We are under strict orders from the captain to not leave more than 300 meters between-”

“Come on.” Bones grumbled, waving the communications officer into a private room. She followed, and McCoy slammed the door before locking it.

“Up on the biobed.” As if in a trance, Uhura nodded dumbly, still moving with an ethereal grace as she followed his instructions. McCoy held his tricorder in his hand but simply stared at her for a moment, frustration and confusion playing across his features.

“How long?” He said quietly, but what he wanted to ask was _How could you be so stupid?_

“I don’t know.” She said forcefully, staring down the wall. “A couple of months, maybe.” 

“If you had come to me before, I could have prevented this from happening.” He muttered under his breath as he began diagnostic testing. 

“Doctors aren’t supposed to be handing out contraception.” She said pointedly. McCoy ignored her.

Uhura was correct, approximately two months and three weeks along. Bones couldn’t help but admire how well her figure was holding up. Not doubt she would be a vision of maternal beauty.

Or at least, she would be if she had the chance to carry the child to term.

The biobed had automatic settings for various check ups. For pregnancy, hormone levels were checked, as well as nutritional deficiencies and growth of both fetus and mother. It also tested the genetic material of the child, comparing it against the genetics bank to pick out the most probable father. Bones knew that it wouldn’t be Kirk, as he would never allow an official record of his progeny to be recorded into the ship’s records.

However, he was completely unprepared for the match that came from the beeping tricorder.

“No…” he gasped involuntarily, but Uhura merely squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips painfully.

“Yes.”

 

_After three months, Kirk still wasn’t sure what to make of the CMO. He skirted insubordination recklessly, refused to take advantages where he could get them. He kept even the crew members he disliked in perfect health, despite numerous opportunities to end their lives in sickbay. His funny, often jovial personality was at odds with the mentality of The Empire, where every misspoken word could mean the end of his existence._

_He would be dead before the end of the year._

_Except, that did not seem to be the path McCoy was heading down. The doctor had slowly, if not begrudgingly, earned the respect of much of the crew. Even Sulu, who could sniff out weakness like a dog, had stopped taunting the doctor in the corridors, and started giving a gruff nod of respect when they passed. Despite the mutual dislike between McCoy and the first officer, they seemed to have some sort of unsteady detente that never escalated into full out war._

_Kirk, despite his best attempts, couldn’t bring himself to feel as irritated as he should at the doctor. Instead, he was curious, and even felt himself falling under the doctor’s sway._

_“You, doctor, are a sensualist.” Spock sniffed distainfully. McCoy grinned, a genuine smile wide with teeth and impishness._

_“You bet your pointed ears I am.”_

_Kirk snorted. Spock stared stonily at him. He was right, Kirk thought. It wasn’t funny._

_It was rather cute though._

 

“Captain, I have something urgent to discuss with you.” Spock announced as he strode into Jim’s personal quarters. Kirk sighed and pushed himself away from his computer. He was having a hard time finding the proper German words to describe the excessive conditions the ship had encountered on their way to Coridan. Perhaps there was merit to promoting the use of standard on board.

“What is it?” He replied tiredly.

“We have a situation. With Doctor McCoy.” Kirk felt a sudden alertness as his back stiffened and his eyes narrowed, and he fought the urge to curl his hands into fists.

“Sit.” He commanded, and the Vulcan took the seat on the other side of Kirk’s desk.

“Now, what kind of problem do we have?” He asked sardonically, hands twitching unconsciously as he await Spock’s next move.

“I spoke to Anthropologist Delacroix as you had commanded me to. She had a very fascinating document that I took the liberty of sending to you.” Spock motioned to Kirk’s computer, and the captain sighed as he opened his electronic communications.

“This had better be worth my time, Mister Spock.” He cautioned.

“I believe you will find it most intriguing, Captain.” When Kirk clicked on the latest communique from his first officer, a digitally enhanced picture file came up. He frowned.

“Some sort of obscure article from the 21st century?” He demanded.

“20th.” Spock corrected. “I am unsure of the specifics of your educational system, but perhaps you learned in history class how Edith Keeler, a leader of the peace movement before the Glorious War, had delayed the involvement of the United States until Germany’s victory was assured?” Kirk nodded absentmindedly, and focused on the title.

 _Edith Keeler, prominent New York Peace Activist, saved from death by bum!_ It declared. Jim frowned and glanced at the picture.

He could tell the article had been enhanced, because pieces from this time period had been transferred from an ancient cataloguing system called ‘microfiching’, scanned digitally by an equally old technology that could only copy in 2D, and been through multiple storage upgrades as newer technology became available. If it had not been enhanced, the picture would have been fuzzy to the point where the words would have been almost unreadable. And yet, staring back at him with a triumphant grin bearing his usual mirth, was Leonard H. McCoy, arm around an Edith Keeler who was smiling up at him with obvious fondness.

“Spock, what…” Kirk couldn’t find the words.

“Delacroix had completed her dissertation on the peace movement that delayed the United State’s entry into the second world war. As American history is largely unstudied and untaught, there is very little information available. In her fastidiousness, she found this article in the New York Archives housed in Minneapolis.” Kirk nodded, pursing his lips as he read.

_Edith Keeler, founder of the Central Soup Kitchen and advocate for peace, almost met with an unfortunate end this Saturday. Or else, she would have if not for the help from a most unexpected source: Leonard Horatio McCoy, a bum she had ministered to through her soup kitchen._

_“Everyone has good in them, but many have fallen on hard times, and it is up to us to help these poor souls so that they may continue to be productive members of society.” Keeler said, after McCoy (left) saved her from being struck by an automobile._

_“A woman as kind and full of good intentions as she is don’t come along every day.” Mr. McCoy told The Journal. “She has done great work through her mission to spread the word of peace and kindness in troubled times.”_

_However, Keeler has become a target for her message of peace as the United States draws closer to entering the war. “I’ve been spat on, harassed, in fact there was a fire that was started in the basement of the mission that I suspect wasn’t an accident.” She relates. “Who know that preaching non-violence could be so dangerous? I am sometimes ashamed to be part of the human race. When we go into space - and we will, in the future - the life we find out there will be embarrassed by our petty ways. We need to move towards a society where everyone is valued and equal.”_

_Was Miss Keeler the target of an attack, or was it an unfortunate coincidence? We may never know._

Kirk snorted. Like the Andorians or the Vulcans had been particularly put off by humanity’s ‘petty ways’. Although he did have to give her credit for her visionary thinking. If he recalled, flight had barely been breached at her time, never mind space travel.

“Delacroix believes that McCoy should be hailed as a hero.” Spock interrupted his reverie, and Jim gave one last look to the article before looking coldly back at his first officer.

“She honestly believes that McCoy somehow travelled back in time to save Edith Keeler and make sure The Empire won?” He laughed harshly. “I should give her time in the agony booth for being so stupid.”

“She has entertained that possibility.” Spock replied. “Or her other hypothesis is that McCoy actually belongs in the 20th century, and somehow jumped through time to be a part of the glorious empire that he helped create.”

“This is ridiculous.” His mirth was gone, and now Kirk was just irritated. “The McCoys were a large clan back in pre-war United States, I’m sure it was a relative-”

“There were no McCoys living further north than West Virginia at the time, and no one in the historical database with the same name as the doctor.” Spock interjected.

“So whoever this was gave a false name that happens to match with McCoy’s. It doesn’t make-”

“Delacroix asked Computer Science to run a facial analysis of our McCoy and the one in the article. There is a 99% probability that they are the same person.” Kirk felt his blood run cold, and his mind refused to focus on Spock’s words. He picked another target for his anger.

“This document is not only in The Enterprise databanks, but has been passed around Computer Science?” He demanded.

“Yes captain. They have also ascertained the authenticity of the document. Aside from being enhanced, it has not been altered or falsely created.” Kirk felt a mindless rage come over him, and he took a deep breath and dug his nails into his palm as he closed his eyes.

_Exhale._

“Wipe the banks.” He demanded. “Clear out your personal files, mine, Alison’s, and anyone else who may have received this. Tell the department that it is interesting that Delacroix found such a remarkable look alike from so far down the McCoy genetic line. And never mention this again.”

“Captain?” For once, Spock looked perturbed. “I don’t think-”

“Now, Spock.” 

“Yes, sir.” The Vulcan nodded, and recognizing his dismissal, got up from his chair and left Kirk’s quarters.

Kirk glanced back at his screen.

It couldn’t be. There was no logical explanation. There was nothing that made sense, even if one assumed the worst of the CMO.

“McCoy, report to the captain’s quarters immediately.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Anti-semitism, racism against Uhura, speciesism, and basically every type of discrimination you can imagine ahead!

_“Captain Kirk.” Admiral Nogura nodded gravely towards his screen, and Kirk returned the gesture._

_“Admiral.”_

_“As you know, I have some… inquiries for you and your senior officers regarding your mission to Tantalus V.” Spock sat ramrod straight to his left, and Doctor McCoy to his right._

_“Of course, Admiral.”_

_“So, let me understand: you discovered the colony had advanced techniques in mind alteration, and yet you destroyed the base and everyone with it.”_

_“Yes, admiral.”_

_“Do you not realize how useful that technology would be to The Empire?” The admiral spoke slowly, emphasizing each word as if Kirk was too slow for normal speech._

_“Yes, I recognize that it would have advanced our technology in mind manipulation immeasurably.” Kirk replied, feeling his mouth go dry._

_“Then why was that decision made? Your reports do not make it clear.”_

_The truth was that it had been a spur-of-the-moment act of vengeance. Carol Marcus, his ex-girlfriend, had been part of the research team assigned to Tantalus V. She had tried the neural neutralizer on him, desperate for Kirk’s attention now that he was a Starfleet captain. The plan had not been to destroy the entire colony, merely her, but a misplaced phaser blast had hit the power source, causing a massive explosion that Kirk had barely been able to escape from._

_He didn’t have an answer that was acceptable to The Empire._

_“I don’t want to embarrass the captain.” McCoy spoke up after a missed beat from Kirk. “But Tantalus V had been taken over by the very rebels that they were attempting to cure. The researchers themselves had been subject to the neural neutralizer and were attempting to reprogram the captain. Captain Kirk fought off the reprogramming through incredible fealty and strength. He didn’t wish to subject the rest of the crew to such attempts, and it was clear that the colony was a danger that had to be dealt with immediately. It had to be destroyed. We didn’t include it in our reports as they are a matter of public record, and we didn’t want to create panic in The Empire.”_

_Kirk nodded, dumbly._

_“Lieutenant Commander Spock, is this true?” And there was the rub. Kirk gazed at the Vulcan cooly._

_“Yes. They did attempt to reprogram the captain.” He said simply._

_“I can’t fault your actions.” Nogura replied. “But next time, do not make The Empire chase you for an obvious question. I could have court martialed you.” Which, he could have. But Nogura was a lazy man, more obsessed with sex and drugs than doing his duty. One a magnificent hero, now he was resting on his laurels._

_Suddenly, Kirk was alright with that._

_“May The Empire reign until the end of time.” Nogura saluted and had the salute returned by the three officers before he cut off communication. Kirk sat, and so did Spock and McCoy, waiting for their cue to leave. But his head just spun in circles, and he looked between McCoy and Spock suspiciously. Favours were not done for the sake of generosity._

_“So,” McCoy drawled, glancing at the Vulcan with a bemused look. “I thought Vulcans didn’t lie.”_

_“We don’t.” Spock shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “We can, however, omit certain details.” McCoy grinned._

_Jim realized that the doctor wasn’t as politically unsavvy as he had assumed._

 

McCoy made his way to the captain’s quarters, growling at an ensign who had bumped into him on his way.

Kirk was not an unfair captain. It was something McCoy has sensed in him the first time they met on the transporter pad. His intuition had turned out to be right: between having a black and an alien on board to his distinct disinterest in the affairs of the crew members who did their jobs, Kirk was a captain who operated on merit. He knew that he had always admired Uhura for her ability, as a black woman, to more than hold her own on the ship.

Yet, despite this, McCoy doubted the outcome would be any different.

“Enter.” Kirk called out, and McCoy found him at his desk, gazing at his screen with a look the doctor had never seen him use before. It looked almost… uncertain.

He sat on the chair across from the captain, and didn’t wait for permission to speak.

“The child is the Vulcan’s.” He blurted out. Kirk’s face froze.

“Really?”

“Yes. Uhura wants to keep it.” Jim’s face relaxed and slowly melted into a small smile, as if a large burden had been taken off of his shoulders. McCoy was unnerved. He understood Kirk fairly well, or so he thought, and this was not the reaction he had been expecting.

“Of course she can’t.” The captain replied breezily. “If she did, I would have to turn her over to The Empire and have her prosecuted. We know her kind are not supposed to defile any other Aryan bloodline. _She_ knows that. She has no one to blame but herself, and I am not going to lose an officer due to poor decision making.” McCoy nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. He knew this would be the outcome. He had just expected less relief from Jim.

“Make sure there are no records of her pregnancy. I want that thing terminated, and for Fuhrer’s sake if she’s going to keep fucking Spock, sterilize her. How did that even happen? I didn’t know Vulcan and human DNA were compatible.” McCoy shrugged, trying to look unconcerned, but he had known. Spock had never directly stated he was a full-blooded Vulcan, but everyone had assumed, and there was safety in that pretense. McCoy was impressed that somehow, after being in Starfleet for over a decade, word had never gotten out. He had looked through the first officer’s medical record, which was virtually zilch, besides a non-descript ‘OK’ from the medical arm of the recruitment office. 

McCoy didn’t know until Spock had come into sickbay, covered in the green slime that was his blood, completely unconscious. The medical scan had revealed his mixed DNA, and McCoy had hesitated. He should have told the captain, gotten further direction from him. Vulcans were ‘extraterrestrial Aryans’, but they were still expected not to dilute the human Aryan bloodline. The man was born a traitor.

Spock had always made McCoy uncomfortable. McCoy had never seen a Jew in person, as they had been erradicated over a hundred years before he had been born. But he had seen pictures of what they had looked like - large, crooked noses, elongated faces, large brows. Spock had reminded him of that race, and it made his chest tighten as he recalled the stories of the vermin being driven out from their homes and businesses, gassed in masses, shot in their ghettos and camps. It wasn’t guilt, he would argue. They had to be exterminated for The Empire to rise, and he personally hadn’t been born yet to be a part of it. Yet, the undignified death of an entire race made him feel uneasy. Sometimes, when he looked at the half-Vulcan, he expected Spock to ask him where all the others went. Sometimes, he dreamt that he had to explain. Sometimes, he apologised.

McCoy had kept the Vulcan’s secret, although he didn’t know why.

“If that is everything, I think a celebration is in order.” Kirk produced a bottle of Romulan ale and two tumblers.

“Why?” 

“It’s been a good day for me.” Kirk replied, pouring so that each glass had the perfect amount of head threatening to burst over the top. “And I’m amused. Somehow, knowing that Spock is getting his dick wet makes him more human, wouldn’t you say?” McCoy took the offered drink and gulped it down in lieu of reply.

He never could say no to Kirk.

 

_The night that the doctor's quick thinking saved Jim from Nogura, he took McCoy to bed for the first time that night. He had taken the older man punishingly, frustrated by what he didn’t understand and too afraid to reveal his ignorance. McCoy hadn’t complained, had taken what was given and even though he hadn’t gotten off, did nothing but put his uniform back on. He had given a sly smile to Jim as he walked out the door, none of that twinkle in his eye diminished. It hadn’t made Jim feel any better, just more confused and frustrated. There was some sort of piece of the puzzle that he was missing, and he didn’t know where to look to complete the picture._

**Author's Note:**

> What the conversation in German is supposed to say:
> 
> *"Hello, Doctor McCoy."
> 
> "Hello, captain. I'm pleased to be aboard."
> 
> "Your German is good. I was told you didn't speak Standard."
> 
> "I lied. I find it best to stay out of politics. Is this ship American?"
> 
> "Yes."


End file.
